


incandescence on a friday night

by bytheinco_nstantmoon



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Come Swallowing, Enjoy The Smut You Filthy Slut, Explicit Sexual Content, I HAVE A PERMIT, I don't actually know how to tag this, I guess???, Internalized Homophobia, It's Okay, Multi, Oh wait, Oral Sex, POV Jonathan Byers, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Season/Series 02, Self Care, Sexual Tension, and then i can go back to my angst, by which I mean, do i need to tag the voyeurism kink if they only talk about it, ft his incredible bisexuality!, he deserves to get his dick sucked, i fucking hate that i had to type that, i literally cannot believe i wrote this, i may as well, i mean its there but i didn't really need to type it that was just for me, im just tagging that for fun, im kidding im sure youre not a slut, it's hornee hours i guess, jonathan being an idiot, literally it's just sex, no beta we die like men, no really. hes a moron, oh shit wait, steve cannot shut the fuck up, steve may be obnoxious but hes hot and hes trying his best, thank you for reading my hornee disaster, the word anal is weird, there it is again, they're in love, this is so dumb actually, voyeurism kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:48:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26517727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bytheinco_nstantmoon/pseuds/bytheinco_nstantmoon
Summary: The rustle of breath across the back of his neck is the first thing that wakes him. The second is the low hum of the television, still on and crackling static in the living room. The third thing, unfortunately, is when Nancy shifts next to him and her thigh presses into his crotch.--Yeah. It's just sex.
Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler
Comments: 5
Kudos: 81





	incandescence on a friday night

**Author's Note:**

> i don't even know what to say here, honestly. uh. this was fun to write tbh but i am burning with catholic guilt over it so. i hope it's worth it

In retrospect, it’s funny, because Jonathan’s pretty sure his mom only consented to him inviting Nancy into their empty house because she was bringing Steve. It’s not like they were going to screw with Steve around, listening from another room. And technically, she’s right about that, because Jonathan falls asleep with Steve pressed up against his back, the three of them crammed as well as they can be into his bed. So. Definitely not in another room.

The rustle of breath across the back of his neck is the first thing that wakes him. The second is the low hum of the television, still on and crackling static in the living room. The third thing, unfortunately, is when Nancy shifts next to him and her thigh presses into his crotch. Which wouldn't be such a problem if he wasn't. Well. You know.

"Fuck," he breathes, half gasping and half a groan. She shifts again in her sleep and he tries to scoot back, except- oh, right, Steve. "Fuck."

There's a low chuckle against the base of his neck. He freezes. "Didn't know you knew that word," Steve murmurs, and  _ oh _ , that voice sends a shiver down his spine he's never felt before. "Don't hear you curse a lot."

"It's usually in my head." Jonathan closes his eyes, trying to will himself out of this situation. It doesn't work. Steve laughs again, all low and thick against his skin, and he whispers, "fuck," again because he can't help it.

Steve's arm is hooked hot and heavy over his waist; his fingers curl into the front of Jonathan's shirt and tug him closer. "Why are you always in your head, Byers?" There's the brush of Steve's nose against his ear, and his head goes a little fuzzy. "Doesn't it get lonely up there?"

"Ah-" he has to squeeze his eyes shut to refocus. "It's, ah- not so bad. I like to be alone."

Steve is quiet for a minute. "No," he finally murmurs. His fingers unfurl, slipping down to the hem of Jonathan's shirt. "You don't."

The feeling of Steve's fingers dragging gently across his bare skin is more intense than it has any right to be. The touch is hardly there, but he shivers at it anyway.  _ What are you doing?  _ he means to say sharply, but instead he says, "Steve-" and has to cut himself off because his voice is too high. Fuck. He's turning red, isn't he?

"Aw, you're blushing! And also hard," Steve adds, sounding strangely pleased with himself for someone that had nothing to do with the situation.

Or. Well.

He does remember fingers dragging over his chest, in his dream, that weren't quite as delicate as Nancy's. But he was probably just remembering that wrong. It was just her. He only ever dreamt about her. He dreamt about Nancy and not even very often and he never, ever dreamt about Nancy with anyone else because that would be really weird and creepy and- fuck, he's really hard. Fuck.

"Nancy," he mutters, and then remembers that oh, fuck, Steve is Nancy's ex, and that was almost definitely really mean, and also is it creepy to admit he had a sex dream about her if she's his girlfriend? He doesn't know if that's weird or not.

Steve just says, "Well, yeah," which is  _ definitely  _ weird. Jonathan is supposed to get pissed about that, probably. That's what boyfriends do, right? They get pissed about other boys admitting they have sex dreams involving their girl? He's probably supposed to be mad.

"Fuck off."

Steve just snorts. "You said it first, man."

They fell into a comfortable silence, Steve's hand still tracing along the skin of his hip where his shirt is riding up. Jonathan closes his eyes. Maybe if he just goes back to sleep, everything will stop being so confusing. And maybe dream-Steve will touch his dick again.

Wait. No. Dream-Nancy. Dream-Nancy will touch his dick. Dream-Steve will do… normal, platonic things. Except there's a crippling lack of platonic things to do in sex dreams, so maybe Steve should just be out of it altogether.

Right. Yeah. Just him and Dream-Nancy. And she can touch his dick. Except then there are only two hands touching him, which means there's no one for him to lay back on top of, no one to wind their arms all heavy around his waist and tug him into their chest and whisper encouragement in his ear as Dream-Nancy scratches at his hips and treats him ruthlessly, and now he's even harder. Wow.

"Relax," Steve mutters from behind him. Jonathan scowls.

"No."

"Please. You're all tense. It's hard to cuddle you when you're all tense."

"Fuck  _ off." _

Steve snorts. Digs his nails in a little, and  _ fuck, _ that goes straight to Jonathan's dick. "What's with the hostility tonight, man? Wasn't a good sex dream?" he asks, all mock sympathy and a wicked smirk that Jonathan can sense, if not see.

"You're being difficult."

"No." Steve digs his nails in again. "I'm being reasonable. Relax."

Jonathan twists in his grip, whining before he can help it. "Not  _ here,  _ in the dream, you fucking-"

Oh.

Oh, he should not have said that.

Steve's arm has gone tense around him. Jonathan freezes. His mind is a sudden flood of panic, all static, like the TV in the other room, and he wishes he could move. He needs to move before Steve comes to his senses and gives him hell for that comment, but Steve's arm around his waist is unrelenting, locking him in.

"I'm sorry," he finds himself saying. "I'm sorry, I'm not… you weren't… I'm sorry. Please don't hit me."

Steve is silent.

"Please let go of me," Jonathan whispers. Steve doesn't move. He just blows a harsh breath out of his nose that sends goosebumps up the back of Jonathan's neck. "Steve, please, I'm sorry, I didn't-"

Steve's voice is hoarse. "Shut up. Just… just shut up for a minute, Byers." Jonathan's mouth snaps shut immediately.

In front of him, Nancy is mumbling in her sleep. She shifts towards him. She always does, always rolls towards the heat at night, and normally it's adorable, but right now it's- okay, it's still adorable, but he's too stiff to enjoy it. It really isn't helping that Steve's hand is still under his  _ goddamn  _ shirt, and his breathing is still harsh in the quiet room, and Jonathan is still hard because his stupid dick thinks that Steve trapping him up against his chest like this is hot.

It is hot, actually. But it's also very stressful, since he just admitted to Steve being in his sex dream, and since Steve is still trapping him here, and Steve  _ won't fucking move. _

"Does she know?" His voice is still low. Rough. Catching on Jonathan's nerves in a way that makes all his blood rush south a little too quickly. Steve's fingers drag down his stomach, his skin burning where they touch. "When you're touching her. She know she's fucking a queer?" Jonathan stiffens. Steve's tone is hard to read. Not malicious, he doesn't think. Curious, maybe? Annoyed? "Do you think about me when you're with her?"

Jonathan says, "No," too quickly, and then he says, "Yes," and then he says no again. And then he says, "I think about both of you. All the time." because Steve's nails are dragging lightly across his hipbone and he has nowhere to lay his cards but down.

"All the time."

Nancy shifts towards him again and Jonathan closes his eyes. "All the time," he whispers. Steve is silent again.

Then, inexplicably, he murmurs, "That's hot, Byers," and Jonathan chokes a little. Steve shushes him. "Hey, don't wake the lady. She's grumpy." And he's right, so Jonathan swallows back the squeak from Steve's breath on his ear.

Immediately he chokes again, because Steve shifts closer, and it's obvious that Jonathan isn't the only one who's. Well. You know.

"Steve," he says, his voice strained, but Steve shushes him again.

"Don't worry, baby. Don't worry. I've got you." He presses a kiss below Jonathan's ear. "Come on. Tell me what you want, babe. Tell me what I did to you in your head."

Jonathan rasps out a short laugh. He doesn't open his eyes. He can't right now; if this is another dream, he'll be damned if he doesn't see it through. "We don't have time for that, Harrington," he replies. His voice is shaking, but it's there, which is honestly more than he expected.

Steve hums. His fingers tap against Jonathan's hip, sparking something like static every time they touch. They inch down slightly. Slightly more and nudge under the waistband of his pajama pants. Jonathan draws in a sharp breath before he can help himself.

"Steve." He licks his lips, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. "Steve, please. Please."

Another kiss below his ear that sends a shiver through his body. A low laugh to accompany it as Steve's stupid goddamn fingers trace a nonsensical pattern on his skin.

Huh. Steve Harrington's hand is down his pants.

And he's so hard that it's starting to hurt, so fuck it. Fuck dignity. Who needs dignity when Steve Harrington's hand is down their pants? Not Jonathan, that's for damn sure.

"Steve, please. Please touch me," he pleads quietly. It's dangerously close to begging, so he thinks  _ fuck it _ and crosses the line. "God, please, I need you. I need you. Touch me.  _ Steve." _

Steve's breath shudders against his neck. "Fuck, you're gonna kill me, baby," he murmurs. His hands traces lower slowly, slowly, until he wraps his hand around Jonathan. Dry and too tight and fucking  _ perfect. _ It punches a moan out of Jonathan's gut before he can help it. Steve presses up against his back, all hot and solid and trapping him there between his chest and his hand, and the scrape of teeth against skin when he bites down on the same spot he'd kissed a minute ago sparks a euphoria that sets Jonathan's whole body on fire.

It's an awkward angle and Steve fumbles a bit as he tries to figure it out, but Jonathan mumbles a sarcastic, "Expert," that earns another bite, mostly to hide Steve's laugh. His grin is swallowed by a moan when Steve figures out how to swipe a thumb over his slit, though.

"Oh, fuck," Steve says, somehow half-surprised. "Fuck, it's wet in here." Jonathan just barely manages to suppress a shrieking laugh by flinging a hand over his mouth. Steve's face presses into his hair. "I- forget I said that. Come on. We're all dumb here."

"Not Nancy," Jonathan replies automatically.

_ Nancy. _

His eyes fly open. She's still there; beautiful even in her sleep, her face soothed from the harsh anxieties that plague when she's awake. She's curled up on her side, one hand under her cheek and the other lying palm up on the sheets between them. An unconscious invitation. She's so pretty, so damn pretty, and so damn precious too, and she's his  _ girlfriend,  _ and Jonathan is lying in bed next to her with her ex-boyfriend's hand down his pants.

This probably isn't what his mom meant when she said she was glad Nancy made him live a little more.

"Steve. Steve, I-" Steve's hand tightens around him for a moment- wow. Steve's hand on his dick. He needs to stop thinking about that.- before skating up, gripping his shirt hem for a moment before he brings it to Jonathan's jaw and tilts their heads towards each other.

He doesn't kiss him, but he leans in so that their breath is glancing off each other's lips. Jonathan definitely shouldn't still be turned on. His girlfriend is less than a foot away.

God, he should have stuck to his creepy pervert sex dream. At least that was private.

"I won't touch you if you don't want me to," Steve says. His voice is low, the traces of laughter exchanged for a solemnity that Jonathan rarely hears from him. "But I think you do. And I want to."

"Steve-"

"Let me finish, Jonathan, okay?"

He swallows, screws up his courage- "Kiss me first."

And Steve, bless him, does. It's not life-changing, just a brief slide of  _ hot wet firm sweet _ that is utterly normal and utterly wrecks Jonathan's world. Because fuck, Steve Harrington is kissing him. Steve Harrington wants to touch him. And Nancy Wheeler is less than a foot away with her hand palm up on the covers as an invitation.

_ It's like a junior year wet dream!  _ he thinks, and then immediately decides he isn't going to examine that thought too closely. Sometimes there are things about yourself you don't need to know.

This, though, the way his whole body lights up when Steve's lips are pressed into his- he needed to know this. It's only been a moment, but he's already forgotten who he was when he didn't know what it felt like to have Steve kissing him all  _ hot wet firm sweet _ and pulling back to smile. His neck is at a weird angle, but it's worth it, because Steve leans back in to kiss him again, and his tongue is nudging on Jonathan's bottom lip, and then he whispers into his mouth, "Nancy said your name sometimes."

It takes a moment to process.

_ "What?"  _ He can't repress the yelp. Steve curses under his breath, kissing him to shut him up, which is a nice way to muffle him, but-

The sheets rustle behind him. "Jonath-" Nancy's voice dwindles as soon as it comes, dropping off in sleepy shock. Jonathan tries to pull away from the kiss, but Steve's tongue slides along his in a way that melts all his nerves, and he lets himself get pressed down into the mattress as Steve maneuvers them so that he's straddling Jonathan's hips. "Oh my God," Nancy breathes. Her voice sounds half an octave higher than normal. Which is funny, because that's also how Nancy sounds when she's turned on.

Jonathan has a revelation, but before he can process it, Steve rolls their hips together and ruins any chance of focus on anything but him. He's always had a penchant for that. Jonathan gives up holding back a low moan, his eyes rolling up at the spike of pleasure when Steve grinds down on him again. God, but he wants to be touched so bad.

"Steve-" he chokes out, because he would love to pay attention to anything else right now, but Steve apparently doesn't want him to. "Steve, please, please-"

There's two hands on his chest. Big and rough and warm, so warm, like they're imprinting through his skin and marking him. The kind of touch that stakes a claim. Fuck, but he'd let Steve put a claim on him. There's a hand on his cheek, soft and delicate and strong, strong enough to tilt his face to the side. Blue eyes, so pretty, so damn pretty, peering back at him through the darkness in the room.

"Hey, pretty boy," she whispers, and then she's kissing him too, hard and hot and dizzyingly harsh. Her teeth scrape the inside of his lip. Steve rolls his hips again, and Nancy chokes on Jonathan's moan, and everything about this is melting his brain functions into nothing but an endless loop of  _ themthemthemthemthem _ . He thinks,  _ I need them, _ and the desperation tastes like home under his tongue.

"Nance," he breathes, and brings a hand up, tangling it into her hair. "Nance. Nance." He pulls back enough to meet her eyes again, trying to gather enough mental finesse to say anything but her name. "I'm sorry," he manages, finally, although it's half-groaned because of the steady grinding rhythm Steve is setting, so the sincerity is probably shot. "Sorry. Nance. Nance, I want your ex to fuck me. Fuck." Steve's hips stutter slightly at that, a groan echoing from low in his chest. Nancy's eyes are blown wide over flushed cheeks, but she nods once; she nods twice; she nods three times, firm, and then kisses him like she's pulling her oxygen from his lungs. He'd give her all of it, he thinks sort of hazily. He'd give her everything. God, but Nancy Wheeler deserves everything.

"I also want my ex to fuck you," Nancy says, which is the first surprise, and then she says, "And I want my ex to fuck me, too, but his stamina is shit, so let's just try for you tonight," and that's at least two surprises in one.

The promise of more tastes sweeter than he expected. He kisses it right out of her mouth.

"Oh,  _ my _ stamina is shit," Steve scoffs. His hips are still moving steadily, but one of his hands reaches out to fist in Nancy's hair. "Tell me, Byers, does she still pass out after one round? Or-" he grins cockily. "-am I just better than you?"

Jonathan can barely laugh through his short breaths, but he manages. For Steve. He thinks he could do anything for Steve. "Every time," he supplies, and Nancy bites his neck. Presumably it's a reprimand, but the shot of pain goes directly to his dick, so. Not necessarily effective. "I- fuck!- I might believe you're better than me, though. King Steve."

Steve rolls his eyes and says, "little brat," so casually that Jonathan forgets how to breathe. Like he calls him a brat all the time. Like he's his brat.

He would like to be. Steve's, that is.

"Steve is better with his mouth," Nancy says. Jonathan should probably feel offended, but her lips are pressed against his jaw, and all he can feel is an increasing fear of coming in his pants.

"Because he runs it so much," he agrees, which is all fine and good until he gets a, "Oh, I'll teach him, Nance," in return that makes him moan in response.

Steve grins wickedly, slowing his movements. "Yeah? You like that idea?" His hand in Nancy's hair tightens and he drags their lips together until Jonathan is giving Nancy his oxygen again. "You wanna team up with me on your girl? Take turns eating her out until she's shaking and begging and can't come anymore?" The collision of moans catches between Nancy and Jonathan's mouths, reflecting back into both of them needier than before. "Yeah," Steve continues, his voice softer. "And then I can lick the taste of her out of your mouth, Byers. You want me to do that?"

Jonathan doesn't even recognise his own voice. He doesn't think he's ever been this  _ wrecked  _ before. "Please. Please, God, I'd let you do that."

"You'd let him do anything," Nancy murmurs, proving once again that she's capable of reading his mind. Jonathan nods. Because she's right. Steve could do anything to him.

Steve's grin is dangerous. "I know, Jon," he says, his voice still soft and tilting towards sweet. "I'm gonna ruin you. But I'm gonna fuck you first, okay?"

\----

Steve eases himself into Jonathan like he's done it a million times before. (He has, actually. In Jonathan's dreams, specifically. The ones he never dare dwell on. But God, he wishes he had. He wishes he'd committed them as tattoos on his brain. This feels like fireworks under his skin.) He bottoms out in a slow, steady slide, pausing to let Jonathan adjust. "You're doing so good, babe," he praises, but Jonathan can't muster a reply.

He's fingered himself a few times before. Curiosity, mostly. Told himself it wasn't gay if he did it to himself.

Except now he'd let Steve Harrington split him open on three of those fingers, and he'd have come already if Nancy didn't have a grip on the base of his cock to stop him, so the whole not-being-gay thing is probably pretty shot at this point. Is it gay if Nancy is here, actually? He does still have a girlfriend. In his bed. Right here.

Steve takes permission from his nod and pulls out slowly before he thrusts back in. Gently. Carefully. But it's not  _ enough-  _ if Jonathan is already on fire for him, is going to let this burn him up, he's going to damn well burn right. "Steve,  _ fuck me _ , I swear to-"

Nancy rolls her eyes and swallows the rest of his words before he can finish. "You're so impatient." She does a long, slow stroke from the root of his dick to the tip and says, "Let him do it right, Jon."

"Yeah, Jonny," Steve echoes. His voice is cracked, but he's grinning that stupid grin that spreads across his whole face. "Let me fuck you right."

Jonathan means to reply. Really, he does. But the moment he opens his mouth, Nancy huffs and nudges three fingers gently at his bottom lip and. Well, it’s half instinct that he takes them in, but it made Steve's hips hitch, so he keeps sucking them carefully and keeps their gazes locked.

" _ Fuck. _ "

And finally,  _ finally,  _ he starts to move. Jonathan's knees collapse further apart, spreading on instinct to relish the feeling as Steve sets a pace that feels like a punishment. He pulls his hips up off the bed, easy as hell, and Jonathan's eyes roll back in his head as he and Nancy moan in tandem. God, but she's enjoying this too.

Jonathan reaches out blindly. Nancy's fingers slip out of his mouth and wipe on his shirt before interlocking with his and squeezing tightly. Steve takes his other hand with a grip that's just authoritative enough to slam Jonathan with the dizzingly realisation of how helpless he is right now, spread out and shaking under Steve fucking Harrington. "Nancy," he gasps, "Nancy, I need to fucking come. Nance. Please."

She does a long, firm stroke again and says, "I know, babe.” Her voice is soothing. He can hardly hear the undercurrent of a groan. “I’ve got you. We’ve got you.” She pats his cheek softly. “Are you okay?” When he nods, her face breaks into a smirk that he doesn’t trust in the  _ least. _ “Good. Hey, Steve?”

When Steve catches her gaze, she leans in and kisses him, and Jonathan comes so hard his vision blanks.

As he reassimilates from the high, Steve’s voice filters into his ears, hoarse and half-caught on a laugh. “Hey, I think he liked that part.” Jonathan snorts. It morphs into a whine halfway through as Steve pulls out. “We already knew that, though.”

He opens his eyes in time to see Nancy smack Steve’s shoulder. “Shut up, Steve.” His voice is lower than he’d expected, exhausted from the worship they’d wrung out of him. He thought it sounded weird, but Nancy visibly reacted to it, so. That was interesting. If she liked his voice worn out so much, then maybe- “Hey, can I go down on you?”

Oh. He hadn’t actually meant to ask out loud.

Steve blinks and flushes. Actually turns red. “I- yeah. Sure. I mean, uh- Nance? Are you-”

“I don’t think I need to give Jonathan permission to suck your dick, Steve.”

Steve nods rapidly several times. “Cool. Cool. Cool. Uh, yeah. Yeah. I mean. I’d like you to do that. So.”

Jonathan blinks and says, “Cool,” and then no one moves for about ten seconds.

Oh, right. “Yeah, I’m gonna-” he peels himself up with some difficulty, gesturing for Steve to lay down. “This. Yeah. This’ll work.”

“Done this before, Byers?” Steve teases, but he’s getting pinker, so Jonathan counts it a win.

He shoots a grin up at him as he slides into position. “Why? You jealous, Harrington?” He hasn’t. Nancy giggles, and it gives him a burst of confidence he hadn’t known he needed. He kisses Steve’s bare hip absentmindedly, eyeing his cock thoughtfully.  _ His  _ hand on  _ Steve Harrington’s  _ dick. Somehow even better than a junior year wet dream.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but fuck it. What’s Steve gonna do? Suck his own dick? There’s very little logic to his line of thought, but Jonathan’s pretty sure he can be forgiven, considering he’s got his hand on Steve Harrington’s dick. He’s come so far.

Before his mind can summon up any more bad puns, he dips his head down. His lips wrap around the head cautiously, and he flicks his gaze up to Steve. He’s staring down at him with something like awe. Jonathan can’t help the stab of pride that goes through him. He’s not really imagined it before. It was bad enough to have Steve in his thoughts at all. It was bad enough knowing that it was Steve, even though he never allowed it to be more than hazy shapes and low moans and warm hands tracing his skin. He’d never imagined that look on Steve’s face. His whole body shivers with it, wracked by a sudden renewal of lust so strong he can hardly handle it.

“Oh  _ fuck,  _ Byers,” Steve groans, the sound of his name lost in Nancy’s mouth, as he gets a hand around him, dipping his head a little further with a experimental flick of his tongue. He furrows his brow intently. The taste is oddly enjoyable. He chases more of it, moving slowly as to mind his teeth, and twists his wrist. Steve’s hips buck harshly in reaction and Jonathan chokes as it hits the back of his throat, pulling off to cough. “Shit. Shit, I’m-” the apology filters into a moan as Jonathan just shrugs and dives back with his eyes still watering.

Nancy sidles down to wrap a bare leg up with his and press another smirk against his shoulder. “I knew you’d like this,” she murmurs. It’s smug and also incredibly hot in a way Jonathan will definitely have to wonder about later. For now, though, he just hums in agreement and nods as best he can when he’s got Steve Harrington’s cock in his mouth. She trails her fingers up and down his back as she keeps talking in that low, slow voice. “I used to imagine it,” she admits. Above them, Steve lets out a broken keen, his hands wrapping up fiercely in Jonathan’s hair. “When he’d fuck me, I’d close my eyes and imagine you were there too. Kissing him, sometimes. Sometimes just watching. Would you want to watch him fuck me?” Her voice is casual, and Jonathan’s cock jerks at her words. She snickers a little bit. “Yeah. I know. You can take pictures, if you want. Steve thinks it’s hot.”

“I never told you that,” Steve rasps out. Nancy’s teeth scrape Jonathan’s skin as her smirk splits into a sharp smile.

“But you do.”

Steve glares slightly, but Jonathan bobs his head down further, testing the limit again, and his face twists in pleasure. “Yeah. Fuck. Bet he’s into it too, though.” Jonathan rolls his eyes, but doesn’t bother pulling off to deny it. He wouldn’t pull off to deny it even if he really wasn’t, though. It’s too addictive to press the flat of his tongue against the head and pump his hand, drop back down, back up, twist his wrist, and hear, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,  _ Jonathan, _ ” above him like a prayer. Nancy’s hips hitch against his thigh slightly, like she’s struggling not to grind against whatever’s closest, and the thought is so overwhelming that he forgets to be careful and drops lower than he intended, accidentally welcoming Steve’s dick into his throat again. He manages not to choke this time, although the aborted convulsion sends a shudder running up the body below him. “Gonna come, gonna come, fuck,  _ Jonathan _ -” Jonathan’s brain is frazzled beyond repair, though, so he forgets to pull off.

As Steve goes boneless below them on the bed, Nancy catches Jonathan’s chin, and says, “I love you so fucking much,” before kissing him. Her tongue delves into his mouth easily. Familiar territory, except now she’s licking the remnants of Steve away, and he moans into it. Steve moans too as he catches sight of them. Nancy moans after him. Probably because she hates being left out.

They all hate being left out, though, don’t they? Isn’t that what started this mess in the first place?

Jonathan rolls them over, wedging his thigh between Nancy’s and letting her grind up against it. “I love you too, Nance,” he murmurs. Stretches his hand up to find the abandoned fingers against the sheets above them and murmurs, “Love Steve too,” because they all hate being left out.

Nancy breaks away from the kiss to grin, lighting up the whole room, the whole world, with the unadulterated joy in her eyes. He hasn’t seen her so unburdened since before the monsters came. His heart aches for how much he loves her. “Yeah,” she says, “I love Steve too.” And he can’t help grinning back at her.

Steve snorts. “Yeah. Okay.”

Jonathan gives him a dry look. “Stop doubting the guy that literally let you fuck him, idiot. I’m going to come kiss you in like ten seconds, but I need to get our girl off first, okay? Asshole.” Nancy gasps out a laugh and reaches up to tangle her fingers with theirs. Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning.

“Our girl, huh?” he echoes, and Jonathan hums, holding onto them tighter with one hand and trailing the other down Nancy until he can find her clit.

“Our girl,” he affirms, two fingers rubbing in a firm circle.

Nancy’s head falls back onto the sheets. Her eyes trail up to Steve’s face. “My boys,” she says, sounding half amused but raw and honest all the same, and then she bucks up against him one more time and comes apart.

They’ll have to talk later. But none of them press that right now, not when they could be curling up instead. Nancy crawls up on one side of Steve and buries her face into his neck with a contented sigh. Jonathan hesitates, but her hand on Steve’s stomach flexes expectantly, so he settles his nose against his girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend’s collarbone and takes her hand, smiling through the combined taste of them in his mouth.

“I love you,” he whispers, and then tilts his head up. Presses his mouth against Steve’s jaw and whispers it again. “I love you. Both of you.”

Nancy squeezes his hand. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to know she’s smiling. “I love both of you too.” Steve kisses both their foreheads. He doesn’t say it yet, but Jonathan just kisses below his ear happily and lets himself get wrapped up in warmth. And if there’s the barest trace of a whisper as they drift off to sleep, it only makes him smile more.

**Author's Note:**

> they all love each other a lot and that's canon sorry duffers you're wrong and also cowards


End file.
